


Right Now Our Future Is Certain (I Won't Let It Fade Away)

by Faye_Reynolds



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Barista!Ray, Brad Is Still A Marine, Homophobic Language, M/M, None Of It Is Derogatory, Ray Is Just Being Ray, Starbucks!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 13:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5929441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faye_Reynolds/pseuds/Faye_Reynolds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tumblr prompt for anon.</p><p>first time writing any gen kill/bradray...so i'm sorry if anyone is OOC</p><p>enjoy! :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Right Now Our Future Is Certain (I Won't Let It Fade Away)

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt for anon.
> 
> first time writing any gen kill/bradray...so i'm sorry if anyone is OOC
> 
> enjoy! :)

Brad followed Nate into the shop that, to him, represented the embodiment of American capitalism and though that sounded like a hymn from on-fucking-high to his ears, he still thought their coffee was shit.

 

“Why do you still come here? It’s been a year since my last visit and you still come to this shop. Why?” He asked disinterestedly.

 

“Because, unlike your _sophisticated_ palate, I can’t tell the difference between Columbian or Ethiopian coffee beans. I just taste caffeine and after last night? I need it.”

 

Brad was about to start in on a rant about the process of quality coffee and the satisfaction of a properly brewed cup when a shorter, wiry man in a dirty and faded green apron slammed into his chest. He thought he heard the man say something about “eating ass,” but with two cups of exceedingly hot coffee soaking through his shirt and onto his skin, he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

 

“FUCK!” Brad exclaimed as he pulled the soaking shirt away from his, now, burning chest, ignoring the looks from suburban moms and teenage girls.

 

“Aw, shit man, I’m sorry about that. At least it was an ugly shirt.”

 

It was muffled behind the man’s hands, but Brad definitely heard the last part.

 

Brad glared daggers at the shorter man’s head but the barista never looked up, rather he chose to burst into slightly infectious laughter.

 

He looked to Nate to confirm what just happened, did, in fact just fucking happen. He nearly growled when he saw Nate red in the face from held-in laughter from behind his phone.

 

He attempted to slap Brad on the shoulder – with the height difference, it only hit in the middle of his upper arm – and walked away. A small scar on the hand nearly stopped Brad’s already rapid breathing.

 

Brad rolled his eyes before following the short man and grabbing him by the back of his collar before dragging him into the nearest room – the women’s bathroom – and locking the door behind them.

 

Brad could hear Nate and the other barista working, quickly banging on the door, but he paid them no attention. He crossed his arms and simply stared at the, now nervous, barista.

 

Silence filled the space between them.

 

“When did you get back?” The barista spoke first.

 

“Last night.” Brad responded, clipped. It may have come off as disinterested, but at the sight of the man before him, the physical pain on his chest was replaced by another _in_ his chest.

 

“ _Oh._ ”

 

Brad grunted to clear any of that fucking sappy shit out of his head. He was not; repeat _not_ , fucking _pining_ for the person before him.

 

Silence ensued, except for the banging on the other side.

 

He saw the man before him open and close his mouth in several attempts at saying any one of what was, no doubt, a thousand different thoughts running through his head.

 

He waited.

 

“What…uhm, what happened to ‘I’m never going back. They can suck a big bag of dicks. I’m done with near death experiences’?” That was what the brunette decided to start with.

 

Brad wished it were any other question but that.

 

“I didn’t plan on it, Ray,” he responded slowly, “it just happened before I could stop it. You…you _left_ and I figured it was what it was and that was it.”

 

The punch to the left of his jaw was both expected and a surprise. He knew Ray would hit him, he just didn’t expect it to be a full force punch.

 

Brad remained motionless even with his jaw in a rather large amount of pain.

 

“I left to get _breakfast_ asshole. I didn’t _leave_ , leave. I don’t know how they let you lead or how you made it back again. You’re the dumbest fucking Marine on the planet.” Ray spat out and attempted to push Brad out of the way.

 

The Marine didn’t budge.

 

Ray stepped back and this time Brad caught the fist flying his way again.

 

Ray calculated quickly and went to throw his other fist to the other side but Brad caught that as well.

 

Brad pulled both fists behind Ray’s back and pushed them against the stall in the small bathroom, their chests flush against one another.

 

The two men stared at one another.

 

In an instant, every thought Brad had tried –and failed—to push out of his mind for the past year, flooded his brain. Every word, touch, and _feeling_ burst through his consciousness. Nine months of just the two of them wrapped around one another, learning anything and everything possible. A whirlwind of annoyance, affection, admiration and adoration coursed through his body, until it crashed into the last moment between them. An argument, a slammed door, an ending.

 

Until now.

 

A fluorescent bulb blinked above them.

 

“Let me go you fucking Viking!” Ray screamed.

 

The banging on the door resumed, only this time with more force.

 

Another part of Brad seemed to take over. The same part of him that came forward during combat. Single-minded determination.

 

He no longer had control over his body, his mind, or his thoughts.

 

He whispered, “I’m out,” against Ray’s lips before gently pressing his own against the shorter man’s.

 

Before Ray could respond in any way, the door burst off its hinges and four SWAT members burst into the small restroom and pulled Brad off and away from Ray.

 

“Get your fucking hands off me! I know him! Tell them!” Brad shouted and looked to Ray as two of the SWAT members stopped pulling him out of the room.

 

All eyes turned to Ray and waited an answer.

 

“Tell them!” Brad shouted again.

 

In the spilt second everyone turned to Brad again, the blonde caught the mischievous smile on the lips he’d just been kissing and rolled his eyes.

 

Ray sighed loudly enough to gather the attention of everyone in the room.

 

A moment of silence was granted to all involved before the suffering began.

  
“Yes, it’s true officers! I know the gigantic Swede before you. Alas, he is but a big flaming homo, like myself.”

 

Ray leaned against the nearest officer that was trying to help him earlier.

  
“He came all the way here from fucking Iraq to profess his undying gay love for me.”

 

Ray sighed against the black mask covering the officer’s face. He didn’t miss the smile underneath the visor and continued dancing across the room to the other officer.

“Ray!” Brad warned.

 

Ray ignored him.

 

“He did so really fucking terribly of course, or else, your _lovely_ presence would be obsolete. But, he’s only just been able to be out and proud.”

 

Ray grabbed the shoulder of the officer closest to him and shook his head in disgrace.

 

“It’s the 20th century man, what the fuck does it matter where anyone’s dick or anything else goes, right?”

 

The officer to Brad’s right tried to stifle his laughter, but only barely succeeded.

 

Brad glared at Ray to implore him to stop, but the barista continued. He wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

 

“See, about a year ago. About three-hundred and seventy three days ago to be exact.”

 

Brad’s eyes widened a fraction and Ray caught it.

 

The brunette smiled brighter, “Yes, _darling_ , I fucking kept count. That’s how gay I am for you, dickhead.”

 

“Ray!” Brad warned again.

 

Ray pointed at Brad, “I’m talking right now, dear. Where was I? Oh yeah, that’s how long it’s been since I was graced with that jarhead’s charming presence and gentle disposition. Now it’s no use pointing blame at either party as to why that is anymore.”

 

Ray kept his finger pointed at Brad before approaching the last guard and grabbing the hand that still held the Marine’s arm.

 

“Now, if you don’t mind letting him go,” he moved one hand, “Thank you!” he removed the other, “We have a lot of gay sex to catch up on.”

 

The SWAT team stood there awkwardly before laughing themselves out of the room.

 

“RAY!”

 

“BRAD!”

 

Both men’s best friends entered the room and rushed to either of them.

 

“Why is SWAT laughing?” Nate asked.

 

“Why isn’t either of you bleeding?” Walt followed with.

 

“This is Ray.”

 

“This is Brad.”

 

They both said simultaneously.

 

If they weren’t itching to get out of the damn bathroom, the two men might have laughed at the ridiculous way their friends were staring and piecing together the puzzle of what was, probably, a similar story of heartbreak. Brad’s with a lot less emotion and Ray’s with a lot more dirty details.

 

Synchronized slaps across each of their faces were a surprise to all four men.

 

“That’s for hurting him!” Walt said to Brad as Nate said to Ray.

 

After awkward, but memorable introductions to everyone, the four settled down for some shitty coffee, according to Brad, before Nate left for work and Walt went back behind the counter.

 

Brad and Ray sat in comfortable silence next to each other in a small booth in the back.

 

“I still can’t believe you bought a Starbucks franchise.” Brad said quietly while looking around the shop.

 

Ray smiled.  
  
_You can take a man out of the Marines, but you can never take the Marines out of a man._

 

“Yeah, well, it seemed like the best ‘fuck you’ I never got to say to you.”

 

Brad turned sharply to look at Ray with an unblinking gaze. His expression was unreadable.

 

Ray cleared his throat.

 

“Seems kind of pointless now.” Ray mused and took a sip of the coffee.

It really was shitty. Nothing like the coffee Brad made the morning after the first night they’d met.

 

“I don’t know, this is…somewhat…fuck Ray. I can’t even lie. This shit is god fucking awful. I’d rather be drinking the fucking instant MRE shit.”

 

Ray laughed and Brad smiled. It’d been a long time since Ray had seen that smile and it stilled managed to leave him a little breathless.

 

“So, you’re out now? For good?”

 

Brad stared at Ray for a second too long for comfort and again Ray couldn’t read his expression.

 

“Yeah,” Brad sighed and looked down to his hands. If Ray wasn’t so goddamn smart, he wouldn’t have noticed that is was one of Brad’s three signs of tension.

 

Brad looked around again, more shiftily this time, never settling on one point of interest.

 

“This, uh, this last tour didn’t mean what it used to before, uh…before I met you.”

 

Ray grabbed and squeezed Brad’s hand under the table and smiled.

 

Brad didn’t need to explain and Ray didn’t need explanation.

 

Not anymore.

 

“Wanna get out of here you big gay jarhead? I think I still have some of that Panama coffee you used to make at my place.”

 

Brad’s eyes widened and Ray counted his gayest blessings that they’d found each other again, albeit as dramatic and eventful as it was.

 

“Lead the way, you big homo hick.” Brad smiled brightly.

 

“Aw, I knew you loved me.”

 

Ray tossed the keys to the bathrooms and shop to Walt, who called in replacements to cover for Ray, before leaving.

 

As they were leaving, Ray shouted at Brad, in response to something Brad said quietly.

 

“I am _not_ sucking your dick until there’s a ring on my finger!”

 

Brad pulled Ray out of the front door by his collar, while Ray laughed hysterically.

 

No one paid them any attention this time.


End file.
